Page 38 of The Heart of a Painter (As I Am 1)

Without her so near, Ibreathed again. “Iwant you to open up apage of your own and go for it.”

Erin did as Iinstructed with atrembling hand. Her past held afirm grip on her, unrelenting.

“You got this, Erin,” Ireassured her, soothing her with my voice like she did with me. “If anyone can do it, it’syou.”

Erin glimpsed back and Isignaled her with my eyes that she had nothing to worry about, that Iwould never judge her. She dragged in air, then while offering me ashadow of asmile, she returned to the page. Her head darted between the photo and the page, raising the pencil, then dropping her hand to the side.

When she did eventually start, it looked as if she flirted with the paper. Her hand danced on it, lines and swirling motions of graphite appearing on the blank page. It came alive and bloomed because of her andforher.

Every now and again she paused to observe her work. Wrinkling her nose, chewing on her pencil, sighing in exasperation when it wouldn’tcome to her quickly. She made the process of creating art erotic, asensual display.

“What do you think?”

Clearing my expression from anything that might hint to the lust she woke up in me, Iexamined her work. “You did great. Actually”—Igot up and we both watched her work together—“this is really good.”

She set the pencil down, pulled down her picture, and stuffed it in her side bag while Iwaved it goodbye. Inwardly, of course. With aflash of her teeth and abright smile, Erin lifted on her toes and gave me the lightest peck. “Thank you, Thomas.”

“I’ll see you,” Icalled after her as she walked out.

“Yes, you will,” she assured me, and Icould hear the smile on her face. “Yes, you will.”

That evening at home, I’dbeen less of aman and more like an emotional wreck as Iprepared myself to hold up my end of the deal with Erin.

Iclimbed to my bedroom, scared shitless to face another failed attempt. The suitcase with my painting gear lay under my bed, collecting dust after two months and weighing like aton of bricks. It contained heaps of emotional baggage Ilonged to get rid of, but never thought Icould.

Not until Iwatched Erin take aleap of faith today. Erin’sshadow chased away my demons and Ilet her seep into my life, transform the way Isaw things.

Following her bravery, Iset everything up. My easel, ablank canvas, the palette with my regular white, black, red, and yellow along with two new tubes Ipurchased on my way home, green and blue.

Her image never left my mind as Iapproached the canvas, stilling my normally quavering hand. She filled me with bravery, allowing air to flow freely into my lungs as if Iwas standing in the middle of Fenway Park instead of my closed room.

My vision cleared and Ireexamined the palette of colors, blending and creating new shades Ihadn’tused before. Eventually my palette looked more vibrant than its normal self, another progress Icould be proud of.

And from that point, magic happened.

Ipainted.

My strokes were random, with no set-out plan, no expectations, like Erin wished me to do. My brush flowed the same as her pencil did for hours on end until my muscles gave out from under and Ifelt the beginning of the old familiar blisters reappearing on my fingers.

Only then did Istop and step back to analyze the chaos Icreated.

On the canvas Icould see afamily of four, afather, amother and two young boys, sitting on ablanket and having apicnic outdoors. It was far from finished and nowhere near perfect, but it was something. After years of astark and painful nothing, Ihad something.

It glued some broken parts of me back together, and Iwanted to share the small victory with the woman who inspired it. Idebated whether Ishould wait until tomorrow, pacing back and forth in my room.

Icouldn’twait, Ijust couldn’t.

Before Ihad the chance to regret, Isnapped apicture with ashortthank you.

Send.

While Islipped out of my jeans and crawled into bed, alight flashed in the dark room from my nightstand.

“Ha!” Was the inelegant sound that burst from me as Iopened the message. She attached apicture, ablank piece of paper with two words on it, written with asimilar pencil to the one we used earlier, saying in asimple messageYou’re welcome.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com